


Silky Shirts And Warm Blankets

by TheGeniusCallsYou



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling (Once Upon a Time), A Monthly Rumbelling March 2020 (Once Upon a Time), AU, Alternative Universe - No Magic, Caught in the Rain, Dorks in Love, F/M, Golden Beauty, Rumbelle - Freeform, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), but neither wats to admit it at first, moodboard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-24 00:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeniusCallsYou/pseuds/TheGeniusCallsYou
Summary: "Belle.""I beg your pardon?"He turned back towards her with his hand still on the curtain, looking surprised."That's my name. Belle," she smiled, feeling bold all of sudden." I'll be wearing your clothes and drinking your tea. You can as well call me by my given name."He blinked a couple of times and then his lips curled in a smile. He nodded once."Belle it is then."Or: Belle secures herself a future date with Mr. Gold after getting caught in a storm.Based on @a-monthly-rumbelling March's Moodboard prompt
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Silky Shirts And Warm Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> It got longer than I expected it to be but well. My first time trying my hand in writing an AU nad first time writing the whole thing from Belle's POV. I think I prefer to write form Rumple's pov but it was a nice experience, having a go at something different.  
> I may turn it into a series but for now, it's a oneshot. Hope you'll enjoy it never the less!

It wasn't that a rainy day in Maine was something uncommon, no. But a downpour like the one today was a completely different story. Her umbrella had broken somewhere along the way, and she had decided to throw it away to stop pretending it was doing its job. The rain was getting in her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't properly shield them with her hands as she harried along the streets. Feeling water splash inside her shoes, made her briefly consider removing them to run barefoot, but she rejected the thought as quickly as it had come. She was already soaking wet so hard it would be a miracle if she didn't catch a cold after all of this. Shoes on or not, it wouldn't make a difference. She needed to find a shelter, that was the priority. 

That's how it had happened. 

Later on, Belle would still not know how was it possible not to see which way she had been going. She would blame it on her wet locks, obscuring her vision, and her lack of foresight in paying attention. It didn't change the fact, that with her next hurried step, she walked into something that made her lose her footing and stumble. 

She screwed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact. She could already feel the pain that would blossom as soon as her head would meet the pavement as she tilted backwards, her left foot already in the air.

The impact had never come.

Instead, someone's hand was firmly wrapped around her forearm, stopping her from falling. She didn't dare to open her eyes as she felt her rescuer tug her forward so she could stand on her own two feet, and moved their hand to grasp her above her elbow. Involuntary, her right hand grabbed the stranger's other arm as her fingers twisted in what unmistakenly was a suit jacket.

The rain was still falling on her face, but she didn't pay attention to it as her heart hammered like crazy in her chest. She swallowed hard and finally blinked her eyes open. 

The first thing that caught her eye was a knot of a red, silky, and now surly wet tie. Still breathing hard, she slowly looked up. Taking in the slightly parted lips of the man who had caught her, then to the droplets of rain dripping down his nose, she finally met a pair of big brown eyes.  
Her own eyes winded slightly because she would have recognised those brown pools everywhere. She got butterflies in her stomach every time those eyes had been looking at her.

The man who currently still held her by the arm, not minding the rain wetting his expensive, tailored suit, the man who had saved her from the fall, was no one else than Mr. Gold. The owner of the small antic shop as well as most of the properties around the town as well as her flat. The man everybody else feared, but she felt strangely drowned to. 

She didn't know when she had started to look forward to his visits to her library or the glimpses of him walking down the streets. She had witnessed how unyielding and harsh he could be, but it was never with her. With her, he had been gentle, quick-witted, and charming in his own way, although he probably hadn't realised that. She had been smiling every time he had said something to her, and lately even at the thoughts of him. She didn't know why was that. Or more accurately, she didn't want to know what it meant.

"Are you all right, Miss French?" his accented voice brought her back from her thoughts, and she swallowed hard. The butterflies were back.

"Yeah, I think so..." she answered a little shaky. 

Mr Gold raised an eyebrow at her as if he didn't completely believe her, and let go of her arm to bend down to pick up the umbrella that laid on the pavement. 

_He must have dropped it when he had caught me._

She shifted her grip on his other arm, the one that had a firm hold on his cane, to help him in some way to keep his balance. He swiftly snatched the umbrella from the ground, and she was forced to let him go as he opened it above both their heads.

"Not the best weather for a walk, don't you say?" he asked lightly, correcting his grip on the cane and planting it firmly underneath him.

"It's not like I've planned it," she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, looking down with hunched shoulders.

The corner of his lips lifted slightly. He twisted and offered her his left arm.

"Come along, miss French. You already look like a half-drowned rat, it won't help if you catch a cold." 

She blinked stupidly at him, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. As she didn't make a move, he tilted his head in her direction. His wet hair plastered to his forehead but he didn't seem to mind them. His eyes were fixed solemnly on her.

"But if you prefer staying out here..." She quickly shook her head and looped her arm through his. She could see sparks dancing in his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold."

"It's no matter."

They moved at a slower pace, his cane tapping rhythmically on the wet pavement with every step. She could already feel the cold starting to affect her as she shivered. She moved a little closer to Mr. Gold, hugging herself to his wet suit in hope to get wormer. His whole posture stiffened, and his steps faltered before she heard him loudly exhale, and resume their normal pace, he didn't relax though.

She didn't notice that he had moved the umbrella so it was mostly over her whole frame, making the rain wet not only his shoulder but partly his head as well.

"We're almost at my shop," he said, his voice a little strained. "You can, ah, get warm in there and wait out the storm."

Her stomach gave a little flip at those words, but she frowned.

"There's no need, Mr. Gold, really. The library is across the street. I can go there."

"Yes, but you will have to cross the river that replaced the road. You still so sure about that, miss French?"

She could hear the slight humour in his voice, that she was sure anyone else would have missed and taken for plain harshness. She glanced to her right, and sure enough, there was water flowing down the road. Not a river, but she still didn't fancy running through that. She shook her head and hugged herself tighter to his arm.

"You win."

"I always do."

She didn't need to look up to know he was smiling, and that made her smile into his wet sleeve.

Soon enough, they stood before the door to his shop. He had leaned on the doorframe after freeing himself from her hold and fished out the key from his pocket. Ignoring her protests that she could open the door for him, he twisted the key, letting them in, while holding the umbrella above Belle's head all the time.

"Lady's first." He smirked at her and held the door for her.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold." 

She stepped inside and looked around. She had been in his shop a couple of times before, yet every time it felt like the first. She was always astonished by the number of things visible on displays. She had a feeling, she could spend days in this shop and not discover everything it had to offer.

She heard a soft click of the door being locked and soon enough, Mr. Gold limped passed her, and towards the curtain leading to the back of the shop. She could hear some rustling and the sound of cabinets being opened and closed again. Then something scraped on the floor as if he was moving something heavy around. 

She swallowed hard, trying to coax her wildly beating heart to calm down. Why was she feeling so nervous?

"Any time now, Miss French."

She whipped her head fast towards the curtain. He didn't step through it. Was he inviting her to the back? Just as she made her first step forward, he moved the curtain back and peered around it to smirk at her. He had discarded his suit jacket and had a towel hanging from around his neck, hair messed from drying.

"Of course if you prefer to stay in that puddle and shiver, you can, but I dare say, you will be much more comfortable over here."

Something worm blossomed inside her, and it made her smile up at him. Her steps, now more confident, carried her past him to the back of his shop. Just as she bypassed the curtain, she stopped short, her mouth half-opened in awe. 

Everybody else would call the room a mess, but she knew better. It was cluttered, yes, but it seemed to be organised in some way, probably knowns only to him. Every possible surface cluttered with antic items, tools, parts, and materials she didn't know the names and use, but the whole place was so unmistakably him. She could see him sitting behind the big wooden table, tinkering with the half-dismantled clock. His brow furrowed in concentration, while his hands would be working with screws and cogs. The vivid image made her smile.

He cleared his throat behind her, making her jump.

"Yes, ah, I do apologise for the mess."

"No! No, it's all right!" She hurriedly reassured him and half-turned so she could properly look at him. "It reminds me of the library storage actually. I love spending my time there. There are a lot of old books that can't be kept at the front anymore. Quite a magical place." She finished, feeling embarrassed by her long answer, and casting her eyes down.

She could have sworn she had seen him blush before her eyes dropped to the floor. He didn't say anything, but in silence moved to the cabinet in the corner and picked something up. She could hear his cane tapping as he moved, but she didn't look back up. 

A shiver wracked her body, and she couldn't stop her teeth from chattering, but then something worm and heavy dropped across her shoulders. She looked up to meet Mr Gold's concerned gaze. 

"We can't have you catching your death, can we miss French?" 

His eyes were soft, but something was lurking in there beneath the surface. She didn't want to dwell too much on what it meant. It didn't change the fact that his gaze made the butterflies in her stomach to have a feast, and her mouth felt suddenly dry. 

His hand that had been on her shoulder for the whole time dropped to his side, and he gestured with his head to the side.

"I do apologise for not having any womenswear, but it's better than nothing."

She reluctantly tore her gaze away from him and finally spotted the bundle of clothes lying on the dresser. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and moved to collect them. There were two towels, one red, silky shirt, pyjama pants, a grey sweater and another blanket. She moved her hands over the clothes speechless. They were his.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold."

"Well, you can get changed. I'll be at the front. Do you require anything else?" His voice sounded a little strained as if he were nervous. She couldn't think about the reason, though.

She turned around, his clothes in her hands, and sure enough, he was standing with his cane in front of him, gripping the handle with both his hands, looking tense and anxious. She flashed him, what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"A cup of tea would be nice, don't you think?"

"A cup of tea, right." He swallowed nervously and changed the grip on his cane, putting his weight on his left foot. "I'll put the cattle on, and you can get changed, miss French." 

"Belle."

"I beg your pardon?"

He turned back towards her with his hand still on the curtain, looking surprised. 

"That's my name. Belle," she smiled, feeling bold all of sudden." I'll be wearing your clothes and drinking your tea. You can as well call me by my given name."

He blinked a couple of times and then his lips curled in a smile. He nodded once.

"Belle it is then."

He disappeared behind the curtain, and she was left all alone in the cluttered room. She looked around again and spotted a small cot further behind the big wooden table. Her mind made up, she made her way towards it. There was a portable heater plugged and standing next to the bed, and her eyes lit up with understanding. So that was what she had heard him moving around earlier. 

She smiled and shook her head, already feeling warmer. How could anyone think about this man as a terrible person?

She set the clothes on the bed, pulled the blanket from her shoulders, and started to unbutton her blouse. She was just about to remove it but hesitated. She bit down worriedly on her bottom lip and glanced over her shoulder to the closed curtain, suddenly afraid it would move aside. The thought of him walking on her while changing sent a weird filling down to her belly as her cheeks reddened at the same time. 

Swallowing hard, she removed the blouse with her wet bra quickly following. She took one of the towels, quickly drying herself while trying to get her breathing under control. It didn't help, that she wondered if he was thinking about her being naked in his shop right now. With her cheeks bright red and trembling hands, reached for his shirt, pulling it towards her face, inhaling its scent.

It smelled of his cologne. 

She smiled as the worry of only flimsy curtain protecting her dignity suddenly disappeared. Whatever you could say about Mr. Gold, he was first and foremost a gentleman. He wouldn't have walked in on her unannounced. She finished changing into his clothes, while still grinning faintly. They, of course, were too big for her, and she had to roll up the sleeves and pant's legs, but she felt warm and safe. 

"Belle?" Her heart leapt in her chest at the sound of his uncertain voice.

"I'm decent!" 

She turned around, finishing wrapping her hair in the towel, to see him stop dead in his tracks. He too had changed, now only wearing a plain, black shirt with his top button undone. It was the most undressed as she had ever seen him. 

And seeing him like this, with no jacket, waistcoat nor tie, felt almost intimate and she blushed. It only deepened as she felt his gaze travel over her whole body. 

He gulped, his adam's apple working up and down, and it took him a couple of tries to get the words out. His eyes were wide, and she wondered if it was because he was seeing her in his clothes. 

"Um... I made tea," he lifted the tray awkwardly, wincing slightly. It certainly wasn't what he was about to say. She smiled brightly, nevertheless.

"Perfect."

She walked up to him, taking the tray from his hand, brushing it in the process. The tray wobbled as he hastily retreated his hand from hers. She managed to catch it before any tea had spilt.

"Oh, sorry! I'm just so clumsy!"

Mr. Gold scoffed at her, shaking his head as he took a step back.

"You never are."

"I walked into you today and would have fallen if it wasn't for you."

"You had rain in your eyes. As I said, you're not clumsy."

She squinted her eyes at his quick answer.

"Even counting that time, I almost fall from the leader while reaching for the book?"

He smiled at the memory and shrugged his shoulders as sparks of mirth danced in his eyes.

"I probably shouldn't have sneaked like that on you."

"You don't sneak, Mr. Gold."

He raised an eyebrow at her playfully.

"I most certainly do, Miss French."

"Belle," she corrected him.

"Belle." He agreed then cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

He limped towards the small bed and sat down on it as she busied herself with purring them both tea in the cups. She could feel him watching her. 

"Do you take any sugar?" She asked after adding cream to her drink.

"Two lumps and no cream, please. Thank you."

They sat side by side on the bed, she with her legs tucked, he stiff as if ready to bolt at any minute. 

"I'm really sorry about the clothes. I will try to find something more appropriate, next time around." He said after a minute, his eyes focused on the tea instead of her. He was fidgeting with the cup.

She looked at him playfully.

"Oh, so you plan to rescue me from the rain somewhere in the future to have me strip down in your shop?"

He choked and almost spluttered his tea, whipping his head around so fast it could give him a whiplash to look at her in alarm.

"No! Of course no - "

She laughed and put her hand on his biceps.

"Relax, Mr. Gold. I was only joking." Only partly though. "Besides, they're very good cloths. They smell nice." _as you do._

She could have sworn he had blushed at her words. Maybe her weird feelings as of late weren't so one-sided after all. Could he tell she was flirting with him? Was she? 

"That's good to hear." 

She smiled in response and returned her attention to the cup in her hands. 

She kept stealing glances at him, watching closely as his posture seemed to relax the more they sat together. It was a slow process, but slowly his shoulder didn't seem to be so stiff, and he moved back to rest his back against the wall. They had never been so close before, and yet for her, it felt right. He looked so vulnerable right now, and she was sure, he wouldn't let himself be like that with anybody else but her. He was letting her see the side of him that was off boundaries for the rest of the world, and she was glad he was letting her in. 

"So, care to share what were you doing out in weather like this?" 

"Oh, Mery Margaret needed someone to babysit baby Neal. I was on my way back when it started to rain." 

He saw him furrow his brow. 

"Mr. Nolan didn't offer to drive you back?" 

She shook her head. 

"His car's broken. Besides, it's not such a long walk. Anyway, what were you doing out there?" 

His shoulder tensed and looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

"I went for a walk," he answered with a strained voice. 

She twisted on the cot and gave him a look. 

"Really?" 

"Yes," he coughed. "It's allowed, isn't it?" 

"Yes, who wouldn't like a walk in a downpour like that. It wasn't that you spotted me down there somehow and decided to be the hero of the hour, was it, Mr. Gold?" She began to smile at how uncomfortable he now looked, and she knew she got him. 

He was aiming at looking offended but was failing miserably. 

"A hero of the hour? I was called many things in my life, miss French, but a hero I'm certainly not." 

"Belle. And you are to me." She shrugged her shoulders and drank her tea, trying not to think of the look in his eyes at her words. "As a reward you got a nuisance stealing both your clothes and your free time." 

"You're not a nuisance. And your welcome to steal my free time anytime you want." 

The cup he was raising to his lips stop midway and his eyes winded in shock at his own words. He looked so mortified for a moment, she took pity of him, and on impulse, moved to squeeze his hand smiling. 

"I may hold you to that." 

A hesitant, surprised smile spread on his face. He nodded once, and she let go of his hand, already missing the touch. He asked her about the library, and she had happily thrown herself into telling him all about the latest projects she had planned for the community. He listened to her while smiling faintly, that smile that she had only seen him make while speaking with her, offering input here and there 

She didn't know for how long they were talking. Somewhere along the line, they found themselves sitting arm to arm, and later on, she rested her head on his shoulder and fallen asleep exhausted. 

Faintly she could recall being moved to lie down and covered with a heavy blanket. The feeling of her head being creased was the last thing she had remembered before falling in a deep sleep. 

She had dreamed of brown eyes and soft smiles. 

Of lips that she wanted to kiss so badly and how it would have felt to be kissed back by them. 

Of arms with long fingers holding her close. 

She had woken up with a smile on her lips. She looked sleepy around, noticing she was alone in the backroom. Slowly, she stretched her arms and yawned. The little clock on the shelf showed her she had been sleeping for something over 2 hours. The rain had stopped, and it was almost dark outside. She wondered why Mr. Gold hadn't woken her up earlier and sent her home. 

Slowly she got up from the bed and gathered her still dump clothes, wrapped them into the towel and tucked the bundle under her arm. It was time to go. 

Mr. Gold was writing in one of the ledgers at the front desk. He closed it end turned in her direction as she walked passed the curtain. 

"Slept well?" 

"Yes, but you should have woken me up." 

He just shrugged and flashed her a toothy grin. 

"You looked like you needed it. It's not like I didn't have things to do." 

"Thank you just the same." 

They fell silent after that, both standing awkwardly, not meeting each other's eyes. She made a move towards the door. 

"I should - " 

"Yes, of course." 

"My clothes are still - " 

"- It's no matter, you can keep mine." 

"Yes, right. Goodbye, Mr. Gold." 

"Goodbye, miss French." 

Belle." 

"Belle." 

She had her hand on the door handle but hesitated before pressing down on it. She didn't want it to end like that. There was nothing awkward between them when they had talked before. Also, she had some little time to think, and she so hoped she wasn't wrong in her assumptions. 

But there were his smiles and the way he looked at her. The way he had blushed when she had teased him. No, she couldn't have been wrong. She didn't want to be. 

She bit down on her lower lip worriedly, her heart bitting furiously in her chest. 

"Mr. Gold." She turned around. If she didn't, she would have lost the courage. "Maybe... maybe you would like to come for your clothes tomorrow?" 

She could have kicked herself for how dumbly she had sounded. He shook his head, clearly not understanding. 

"Don't worry about them. I'm in no hurry." 

"No! What I meant was maybe you would like to come to my place? I could make us some tea..." 

God, she sounded like some stupid school girl. His mouth was hanging open, and she could pinpoint the moment when he caught up to the meaning of her words. 

"Um, it's not that I wouldn't like to, I would very much so, but I'm not sure - " 

"The tea would be a great occasion for you to tell me your name as you already know mine, don't you think?" She flashed him what she hoped was a playful smile to stop him from rumbling. 

He smiled back, causing the comeback of the butterflies in her stomach. She happily welcomed them back because now she was almost certain they were on the same page. 

"Didn't you say something earlier about me using your name because you drank my tea and wore my clothes?" He gave her a toothy, lopsided grin and one raised eyebrow that made her laugh aloud 

"Well if you insist on it, I can arrange some of my clothes for you to wear, Mr. Gold." 

He shook his head still grinning playfully 

"That part, I'll gladly pass, but I'm not saying no to the tea. Say at 6 o'clock? I should be all but finished by then." 

"It's a date then!" 

She bounced happily to him, and before she could think twice, she kissed him on the cheek, catching the corner of his lips in the process. She grinned mischievously at his surprised expression and winded eyes.  
She turned around and ran from the shop still smiling before she could do anything more stupid. 

Gold's hand touched the place where her lips touched his cheek rotten to the spot, not moving to close the door that Belle had left open. Slowly, the corner of his lips turned up, and a full smile graced his face. 

_It's a date, Belle._


End file.
